


You’re Getting Blood on My Carpet

by muscatmusic18



Series: June Prompt Challenge [4]
Category: Agent Carter (TV)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Flashbacks, Hurt/Comfort, Knife injury, Mugging mention, Post Season 1
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-05
Updated: 2018-06-05
Packaged: 2019-05-18 20:28:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 927
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14859729
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/muscatmusic18/pseuds/muscatmusic18
Summary: After being injured, Peggy finds herself back with the only person she wants.





	You’re Getting Blood on My Carpet

**Author's Note:**

> This went so differently than I imagined, but I like it.

All Daniel really wanted to do was take off his leg and curl up in bed for a million years, but that’s a bit hard to do when you open your apartment door to find a bleeding Peggy Carter in your living room.

He gaped at her, wondering first how she got the magnificent cut on her bicep, secondly how she’d gotten into the apartment without having a key.

After a few moments of eye contact, she sighed and looked away. “I can explain everything, but first can you help me?”

On closer inspection, he saw the needle and thread hanging from her arm, and realized that she’d tried to stitch it up herself, but couldn’t because of the angle. In what felt like a fever dream, he walked over and sat down in front of her, staring at the injury. Dumbly, he said, “You’re getting blood on my carpet.”

Peggy rolled her eyes. “Send me the bill if you’re that upset about it. But right now…” she gestured to the cut, the red of the blood on her arm enough to snap him back to reality.

He picked up the needle, glancing up at her. “Do you have something for the pain?”

She pointed to the floor next to her chair, and following her finger he noticed a bottle of his whiskey there, open with a fair amount gone. Regardless, he cracked a smile. “Breaking in and stealing my whiskey? A guy might start to think.”

She barked out a laugh, one that sounded pinched and pained, one that worried him, but one look to her eyes and he knew he shouldn’t asked about it or the cut just yet. So instead he adjusted his grip on the needle and started sewing, never pausing or glancing back up at her until he cut the last thread and taped a bandage over the area.

Daniel managed to meet her eyes as he cleaned his hands off with a handkerchief. “So do I get an explanation tonight?”

She let out that same laugh, taking a swig of the whiskey before answering much more candidly that he thought she would. “I was mugged on my way home tonight. It shouldn’t have been a problem, but the way his knife gleamed in the moonlight caught me off guard, and suddenly I was reeling back to the war, and all I could hear and see and smell and taste was gunpowder and blood as I fought for my life in Germany and France and Russia and every other bloody country I was ever in. Then I was back in that alley and the tang of terror was in my mouth as that man cut my arm and I managed to fight him off, but my chest was still too tight and my heart was pounding and for the first time since the war, I was afraid to go home and be alone. So in my haze I ended up here and I jimmied the lock and I found the whiskey and drank until my lungs relaxed, and once my body stopped fighting for air, I realized that the only thing I wanted was you and your presence and the safety of your comfort, so I found some sewing supplies and tried to fix myself while I waited for you to come home.” A tear ran down her cheek and she let out another bitter laugh. “And you know the rest.”

Daniel’s heart was squeezed and shattered a thousand times over as she rambled on, and once that tear escaped he couldn’t help himself but to reach out a hand and wipe it away with a thumb. She didn’t seem to notice, but when another one came down and he wiped it away she gazed at him with wide, fearful eyes, before relaxing and leaning into the palm of his hand.

He allowed her a few moments of quiet before murmuring, “You can stay here tonight.”

“Are you sure?” Her voice was so desperate, desperate to stay, desperate to never be alone again that he struggled not to cry himself.

“Of course. I have some extra clothes you can wear; they might be a little big but it’s better than nothing.”

Peggy nodded, and he quietly lead her to the bedroom, pulling out a shirt and pants for her before retreating to the bathroom to change and take care of his leg. When he came back, she was already curled up on one side of the bed, and he sent up a quick hallelujah for his queen sized bed. 

He thought a moment about what he should do. Should he stay? Should he sleep on the couch? Then as he thought back to all the sleepless nights he’d had thanks to flashbacks, he realized what it was that he wanted all those nights, as just what Peggy wanted now. 

He sat down and rearranged the pillows so he could sit up, then as he eased himself next to her, he stroked a hand through her hair.

“Rest, Peg. I’ll keep a lookout tonight — make sure no one else gets in; I’ll have your back… you’ll be safe.”

Her eyes were full of such understanding, and gratitude for knowing what she needed to be able to sleep tonight, for knowing what she was going through, and for knowing that she needed him — no judgement, no words — just him.

Finally giving in to the relaxing touch of his hand in her hair, she fell into a dreamless sleep under the eye of her sentry.


End file.
